


Capture and Evade

by Darkwhisperings



Series: ProwlxJazz Anniversary 2017 [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Community: prowlxjazz, Darkwhisperings attempts to write, Heroes and Villians, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Injuries, Minor Original Character(s), Minor Violence, Original Characters Ahoy!, Original characters as cannon fodder, Sexual Content, Slash, Torture, unbetaed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-29 18:09:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12090558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkwhisperings/pseuds/Darkwhisperings
Summary: Prowl, newly recruited to the tactical division, is assigned a straightforward survey mission.  What his team expected to encounter and what they actually encounter and two different things. When Prowl fails to report in on time, command dispatches Meister, a rising star in the special operations division, to locate and recover the away team.  This shared experience leaves both reeling, and trying define the growing feelings between them.





	Capture and Evade

**Author's Note:**

> Well then. This prompt certainly got away from me. Once again, I’m excited to be writing for the ProwlxJazz Anniversary challenge! This year was a prompt bingo card. I have split my prompts into a series of multi-chaptered works as well as some one-shots! 
> 
> This fic is for the prompts following prompts for the ProwlxJazz 10th anniversary challenge:  
> \- the pilot just died  
> \- heroes and villians  
> \- saviour  
> \- undercover  
> \- if you want to live - run
> 
> This is the first fic in a serious of multi chaptered fics for the Anniversary challenge. Hope you enjoy! Please come find me on Tublr as darrwhisperings (my main blog) or darrkwhisperings-tf (my sideblog dedicated to everything Transformers) for fic updates or if you wanna chat!

With such a distinguished military career, the average mechanism incorrectly assumes Prowl is and always has been perfect. There is, and he’ll be the first to admit it, a rather amusing rumor that he had succeeds in every mission that he is assigned, surpassing the expectations of his superiors at all cost. Hence, the birth of the assumption that he lacks emotion.

What they do not realize is his first assignment was far from perfect. In reality, it was the single worst experience of his functioning.

An incident that still torments him during his recharge cycle.

Stellar cycles later, he had come up with countless ways in which he could have saved seven sparkes, seven sparkes that died due to his inexperience, hesitance, and negligence.

However, there was one factor in the whole affair that he could not bring himself to regret. It was, after all, how he first stumbled into the mech he would someday call his sparkmate.

 

______

 

To the average bot, this planet looks no different than your average planet. It is the eleventh planet in a system of thirteen. Planet 11 has nine natural satellites, and is barren uninhabited like the other planets in the system in question. These thirteen planets revolve around a white dwarf sun, which is slowly approaching the end of its life time, its heat dissipating into the vastness of space. Planet 11 is a K-class terrestrial planet, one of two terrestrial planets in this solar system. With a planetary surface composed mainly of silicate rock, minimal atmospheric protection, and a surface temperature of 221 Kelvin, the planet proves difficult to navigate and survive on. Although not organic in biology, the level of extreme cold in question would be fatal to their species over prolonged periods of time. Surface water is scarce, and what sources to exist are solidly frozen over. Lack of gravity and surface protection is the direct result of minimal atmospheric cover. The distance and composition of the nine satellites in orbit wreak havoc on both their personal and shuttle sensors. The terrain, albeit plain and barren, is rocky an uneven, making passage for ground based vehicles difficult. Heavy cloud cover, composed of mainly carbon dioxide and highly charged ionic interference, effectively shields the surface from orbital view.

Autobot high command had scouted Planet 11, or Epsilon-11 of the solar system MX-2856, as a potential location for a covert Autobot base. Second Lieutenant Prowl and his team of scouts, specialists in various fields, had been dispatched to determine the suitability of Epsilon-11 said new base of operations.

Based on the data they had collected over the past few mega-cycles, Prowl has come to the conclusion that Epsilon-11 meets 93.7856% of the criteria for the new base of operations. It is easily defensible, as ground based artillery would me met with extreme environmental challenge in the attempt to approach the location. The heavy carbon-based cloud cover would effectively mask the base from aerial strikes. Magnetic feedback from the natural satellites in orbit and the presence of highly charged ions in the atmosphere would scramble sensors, making pinpointing the bases exact location challenging. With the nine natural satellites in orbit, a well-fortified planetary defense system could be established to protect the base in the event of a siege. Finally, Epsilon-11 is far removed from any of the main space travel and transport corridors, making it extremely unlikely for someone to ‘accidentally’ stumble across the bases location. To make the base habitable for its crew, a pressure dome would have to be constructed, which would take time, but the extreme tactical advantage observed by the scouting crew make it an ideal location.

Prowl disconnects himself from his datapad, his on-board tactical processor idling into standby mode. Looking up from the screen, he subtly surveys his subordinates, removing specialized survey equipment from the shuttles, securing them sub light travel, and replacing supplies in their assigned storage lockers. They look tired, as they should: after all, they had just concluded extensive circumnavigation for data collection, all of which had been uploaded to Prowl’s datapad for further analysis. However, underneath the strut-deep physical exhaustion, he still observes the spark in their optics, the excitement at both being out in the field and the positive conclusion of their first away mission.

Prowl fought a small smile trying to make its way to his lips.

It was his first command of an away mission. His dedication to the Autobot cause, and the reliability and speed of his tactical processor had gotten him noticed by command. He had been immediately transferred into the Tactical Division, where he had been assigned his first mission: command of a scouting mission to determine the suitability of Epsilon-11 for the Autobot faction’s new primary base of operations in terms of base defensibly, logistics of supply transports to and from the base, among other important factors. They had been assigned a ship with two on board shuttles; due to extreme atmospheric interference, instead of simply taking scans from orbit, they had split into two teams. Each team had been assigned a location planet side, where they had dispatched to and spent the last mega-cycle running extensive scans. Based on the mission parameters, he had selected bots from the necessary departments, all specialists in their fields. For many of them, this was their first assignment; their first chance to show their superiors what they were capable of.

Even better, Prowl would be able to strongly recommend this planet to Command.

With a flick of his doorwings, he subspaces his datapad and clears his vocals. Immediately, his team stops in their tracks, turning their focus to their commander.

“Commendable work over the last mega-cycle. From the initial calculations I have done, it seems as though this location will work well. Please finish securing the shuttles and supplies, and prepare to break orbit. I’m sure you’re all looking forward to returning to the Ark.” Prowl intones, turning to a control panel to key in the sequence to close the bay doors. He watches through the shuttle bay force field for a moment, the barren and desolate slowly disappearing from sight.

 

\------

 

At the command console, Prowl scrutinizes an anomalous reading on the port side of the interstellar engines.

“Backlash?” Prowl queries, glancing over in the direction of the single security officer assigned to the survey mission.

Backlash grasps the edge of the console as she studies the reading on the display. “It doesn’t look like anything suspicious. It’s not indicative of interstellar engine exhaust, nor does it look like the heat signature of a ship. Could it be some of that sciency slag? You know…space dust?”

The femme eyes Prowl over her shoulder with a nonchalant shrug, before sauntering back to her own station at the security console, “Besides, based on the mission report from Command we’re nowhere near Decepticon space or transport corridors.”

Flareup, the single science officer present on the bridge, studies the read out for a moment longer. “Due to interference from the present of highly magnetic ions in the planet’s atmosphere, I cannot get an accurate composition scan of the anomaly. However, I’m confident that it is no more than build-up of particles from the upper atmosphere on the outer casing of our interstellar drives. As Backlash so … eloquently described it, space dust.”

 

Prowl considers this information for a moment; his battle computer supplying he probability of the anomalous reading being malicious in nature as 39.2698 %. High, too high for his liking. Then again, he did have a habit of being too generous with his calculations. And his crew was ready to get back to the Ark and have some much deserved rest time…

 

“Sir, all departments are secure and report ready for sub light travel,” Flightpath, the pilot stated from his position at the helm, “Permission to engage sub light drive, Sir.”

Like the mission report had said, they were not in proximity to any Decepticon activity. And if by some stroke of bad luck they had stumbled across hostiles, wouldn’t they have made themselves known by now? “Permission granted. Sub light is five, four, three, two-“

_Zap. Zap. Zapzapzap._

A sickening crunch. Flightpath’s helm hit the console in front of him. The sound of several metallic bodies

Prowl observes the scene before him. Watches as Flightpath’s optics flicker out into nothingness, as his vital fluids seep onto the control panel, slowly oozing to the edge to fall to the floor with a an overloud excessively slow _drip_ …

Everything seems to move in slow motion. Why was it so silent?

The cold barrel of a gun is shoved unceremoniously into his temple, hastily knocking the commander out of his dazed state. The crook of the guns owner’s arm wound harshly around Prowl’s neck struts, and he is forced to angle his helm up and to the side in an effort to avoid cutting off vital airflow to his processor.

It was then he notices the red reflection on his chestplates. **Red optics.**

His battle computer kicks into action. _Finally_.

Evidently, not an anomalous reading. Rather, a cloaked Decepticon stealth ship hiding in the sensor shadows created by a combination of the interstellar drives and the atmospheric ion particles, his battle computer helpfully supplies. _Frag_.

His team had been comprised of three science officers, two scouts, a security office, a pilot, and himself. Three of which had been on the bridge preparing the ship to break atmosphere; the remaining four below decks sorting and refining data to be passed onto command. A quick scan of the small bridge of the survey shuttle confirms his fears.

Dead. Prowl was certain that if he scanned the rest of the ship, he would find the grey lifeless bodies of the rest of his team on the lower decks.

 

A low, gravely chuckle. A sound that would stick with him for a long, long time.

“What do we have here? Little Autobot’s that ventured too far from their precious Prime and got lost?” The Decepticon with the pistol to his head cooed.

“Don’t you mean ‘Autobot’? We did just kill his little friends…” A second mech, this one purple and grey in colour, appears in Prowl’s line of sight and studies him intently, as a predator would watch their prey.

Prowl is unable to hold back the shutter of disgust.

A third mech, deep crimson in colour, rolls Backlash’s grey frame over on to her back with the toe of his foot, to Prowl’s horror.

The original Decepticon tightens his grip around the tacticians neck, thrusting the cold barrel of the pistol harder into his helm, “Imagine our surprise when on a routine mission to our usual weapons testing ground, we happen across a group of unsuspecting Autobots. It might just be my lucky cycle.”

Obviously Autobot Command had been severely lacking in Decepticon activity intelligence in this region.

“Are we going to give him to the Commander as a gift?” The crimson one suddenly asks, looking up at Prowl with a steadily growing sick grin on his face, “Or, can we keep him as a…plaything?”

He had to find a way out of this. With a hurried glance around the bridge, his gaze lands on the helm, Flightpath’s corpse still sprawled out over its surface, once vibrant frame now grey in the clutches of death.

Wait.

He could [i]crash[/i] the ship. Hopefully, destroying the console and thus, the ship attitude controls, would give him the upper hand and enough time escape in the ships only life pod, leaving the Decepticon’s to crash on the planet’s surface.

A 15.5893% chance of success, his battle computer delivers. Abhorrently low, however, it was currently his best chance.

With an uncharacteristically vicious snarl, he wrenches his left arm out of the Decepticon’s hold, dealing a harsh blow with his elbow to his captors jaw plates. The dark mech being momentarily stunned, Prowl twists out of his captivity, hissing as he put immense strain on his doorwings.

He pulled his pistol from subspace, firing off three rapid shots in quick succession. With a quick prayer to Primus that the shots met their intended targets, he spins around, and empties the remainder of his pistols laser core charge into the helm console.

Silence.

Movement out of the corner of his optic. Two dead Decepticons, and one [i]furious[i/] looking one with lifeblood pouring out of a nasty shoulder wound.

The ship sharply lurches.

His captor hits the floor with a loud _bang_ **.**

He bolts towards the entrance of the escape pod.

This is his only chance.

Prowl staggers as the ship abruptly noses dives, putting it on a collision course with the harsh barren surface of Epsilon-11. He catches himself off of the armrest of the command chair, and uses it to gain his balance and leverage himself forward.

Suddenly, his senses are overcome with white hot _pain_. In his panic to make it to the pod, he had neglected to notice the Decepticon grunt right himself by using the sparking remains of the helm console, and take aim at his thigh plating. The shot severely disorients him, and he doesn’t even have a chance to evade the dark mech’s wild grasp.

Prowl gasps in agony as his doorwing is crushed in the Decepticon’s harsh grip. The menace snarls like a starving turbofox, using leverage from his grip on the tactician’s doorwing to smash him helm first into the console’s surface.

The last thing he registers before the blackness overtakes him is the fast dissipating distance between the shuttle and the planet’s surface on the view screen, and the over-bright glare of red optics observing him.


End file.
